


bleeding skies

by Kalus



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Kinda Dark, M/M, this is pregame angst by the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 13:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12842565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalus/pseuds/Kalus
Summary: Saihara auditions for Dangan Ronpa.Ouma can't comprehend his friend's fixation with the show.





	bleeding skies

“I.. can’t understand your fascination with death. It’s a really difficult concept for me to grasp.”

“What’s not to understand?” Saihara says, giggling. “Don’t you think it’s interesting? How Dangan Ronpa comes up with a conundrum of deaths and executions, all of them so vastly different from each other? I’d _kill_ to die like that. Besides, it’s a whole lot better than just dying from old age or jumping off some roof. That’s just meaningless and boring.”

Ouma stays quiet. If he had jumped, would Saihara think of him as a coward? Was that why he stepped in before it was too late?

“Dangan Ronpa gives you meaning.” Saihara continues, with a delirious smile. “When you die, you won’t be forgotten. Even through death, you’ll live on through the fans. That’s probably my favourite thing about all of this: _the fans._ When I die, they’ll write stories about me, maybe even come up with a few case studies and analysis videos. They’ll even make fanart for me. It’s really, really flattering. Art can take days to make, even weeks or months, and for them to spend all that time meticulously working for me? It’s _beautiful._ ”

“I don’t want you to die.” Ouma says, shaking. There’s a pressure building up in his eyes as he continues his desperate pleas. “Just imagining you dead with a crowd of people cheering on your execution.. it’s.. it’s too much.”

“We’ve already talked about this.” Saihara refutes, before narrowing his eyes. “And I’m pretty sure we talked about _that_ too.” 

Ouma immediately flinches. 

“How many times have I told you? _Don’t wear your heart on your sleeve._ Lie if you have to.” 

But can’t he see, that Ouma’s only doing this because he cares for him? 

“Because right now,” Saihara went on. “Your honesty is really pissing me off.”

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

“I’m sorry,” Ouma says. _So softly._ Saihara almost misses it. “I just— I can’t help it. If it weren’t for you I’d— I wouldn’t even be here.” He wants to add more, but the look in Saihara’s eyes stop him, especially when those eyes take on a sharper edge.

It… it was normal for friends to worry for each other right? 

“Just how it is.” is all Saihara offers. “You haven’t been exposed to the show as much as I have.”

Ouma thinks back to one of his class lectures. Something about Cultivation Theory, and how likely it is for viewers to blend the world on TV with their reality. 

From the moment he’s met Saihara, he's already lost him. 

Ouma chooses his next words tentatively. ”Do you know for certain yet? About your results, I mean..”

“Not yet.” Saihara says, shaking his head to and fro. “They’re still conducting a bunch of interviews and what not. I have a pretty good feeling about my audition though. I think they liked the portfolio I put together.”

“A portfolio?” 

“I call it a portfolio but in actuality, it’s just a bunch of loosely based ideas.” Saihara muses. “ _Execution_ ideas. Punishments that I think are worthy for an Ultimate Detective. They seemed really impressed with how thorough I was. That counts for something, right?”

The hard knot of anxiety in his stomach tightens. “How many?”

“Around seven or eight I’d say. I was aiming for _fifty three_ , but writing is a lot harder than it looks.” Saihara says, jokingly.

Ouma can’t find it in himself to laugh. He _hates_ this. He hates this entire conversation. He wants nothing more than to grab Saihara by the shoulders and scream. He wants to yell until his voice cracks, until the other boy listens to reason and realizes he’s right.

But that will never happen. It’s too late for Saihara. He’ll always be under the veil of society; he’ll always be asleep. 

Ouma can’t stop his arms from shaking, can’t help the glassiness that forms in his eyes as Saihara tells him one of his favourite executions:

_“Saihara Shuichi: The Ultimate Detective! The detective boy wonder must piece together a crime scene under a duration of ten seconds! Every time he fails to present a compelling argument or point, he’ll receive punishment. As the execution reaches it’s climax, Monokuma gorges out his eyes, a symbolic gesture showcasing how Saihara’s turned away from the truth, or refuses to open his eyes onto them.”_

—

 

 

 

 

“My name is Ouma Kokichi. Why don’t we just get down to the nitty-gritty— _why exactly I’m here._  
Well the answer’s simple: to save an _idiot._ We’re going to enter this killing game and we’re going to _survive_ to the end together. I’m going to teach this idiot that life is worth living.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was learning about Cultivation theory in class which basically brought this fic to life. (Along with a few angst Pregame!Ouma art)
> 
> It's a really interesting theory that examines the long term effects of television. 
> 
> Example: People who watch the series about crime a lot will feel that the world is more dangerous than it really is.


End file.
